1,000,001 Shells
by Elira Rose
Summary: Just a parody about what I think would happen after the Dovahkiin dies...and is confronted by the group of figures who all say they have claim to her in the afterlife.


**A/N: Just a random-ish parody that I had been considering for awhile... Let me explain, for a better reasoning as you read on, sweet readers! I have often wondered, with all the prospering adventures our mighty Dovahkiin bravely encounters, what happens if she were to fall into such a despairing tragedy like death? Whom would claim her and what dimension would she live eternity in? Such a thing I ravenously query. I mean, there is Nocturnal, who, if you complete the Thieves Guild quest line, more than presses the matter that your life is but to fulfill protecting sepulcher. There was the basic invitation, which to me seemed more of a fact, that Sovngarde would be your rest after death. There is Sithis, who claims all his loving children to the Void after death, if they so humbly adorn in his ranks of assassins. There is Potema(although I still am uncertain if this still applies AFTER you whip her butt, or only as she was half-alive...), who you were bound to after trying to simply be rid of. Then there's a major possibility of becoming a Divine or some otherworldly manifestation because of her heroism beyond what anyone seems to have succeeded. So, I wonder, where in the name of Akatosh do you end up WHEN YOU DIE? :3 Well, ladies and gents, this is what I think would go on, and what I believe would be best for my little Elira's eternity. **

**Yes, Sheogorath will be present. I feel as if what I'm doing won't be as entertaining without my favorite mad god... **

**I extremely apologize in advance if I manage to slip them OOC... I have written very little of Elder Scroll fan fiction, though in time that will change. **

**Ha-ha... x3 It probably sucks and is sloppy, there are probably spellings errors, but this was more of an entertainment than to have any potential. Meh! Hope you all like it! **

**Oh, and reviews receive daedra cookies! That is, as long as you're not too harsh on me... I realize this is random, probably OOC, and pointless...but I had fun with it! Be gentle... **

****

Here sat the honorable Dovahkiin, all but stripped of her sanity. Her life had changed drastically over the last course of years - finding out her gift than not only altered her life, but the lives in Tamriel. That she was - as depicted, Dovahkiin.

Becoming the Arch-Mage of Winterhold College, and in the process disposing the world of an untamable evil titled the Eye of Magnus.

Ridding Skyrim of the Imperial forces in support of Ulfric Stormcloak, and helping in becoming High King.

To add on, annihilating a small army of Thalmor that were, in her conclusion, far worse than the Imperials would ever be. The Legion was simply puppets to them; a pawn that would later be disposed of.

She was Harbinger of the Companions.

She whipped the Dark Brotherhood back into shape, despite the losses of many dear Dark Brothers and Sisters.

Discovering the memories she long thought lost forever.

Becoming Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild that originated in Riften, and marrying the love of her life.

This was but a mere handful of her accomplished events, which would leave most mortals shoving their eyeballs back in their sockets at the realization of what she had ordained.

But here, sitting at this feasting table with several well-known figures of history, she felt nothing more than a piece of dirt on the bottom of a boot. No, not because of whom they were. But in fact, what was being discussed, leaving her secluded. She might be mad, her temper might have lit and run off like a wildfire, if it had been anyone but these heroes - err, at least, part of them could portray such a label.

You would never guess whom she had be 'invited'(in reality, kidnapped) to feast with. Whom she now sat at this mahogany wood table, filled with a luxury of food and drink, that she had neither the appetite nor mind of even considering tasting.

Nocturnal, Lady of Shadow. Ysgramor, representing Sovngarde. Queen Potema. Hircine. Sithis of The Void. And Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. But she was still puzzled to why the mad god was present.

In basic - some of the people you would /not/ suggest dining with. Well, besides Sheogorath, whose cheese and strawberry tarts were out of this world...literally? Of course, in some cases, one might not choose to feast full heartedly with him. Like if he wanted to lasso his daedric mates with your intestines, then that would be a reason not to share some daedric tea with him.

But this had not been her doing, and she still had not even a figment of a clue to why in Oblivion she had been forced here.

After some long hours of timid feasting, and idle chatter, the point was struck straight on with a virtual arrow.

"She's _going _to protect my Sepulcher after death, she's _my _Nightingale," Nocturnal's fluorescent voice was the first to pack the punch on the presentation, her tone not to be argued with, and her forceful gaze confident in her ability to get what she wanted. She was dressed in her usual revealing attire, yet her well-known raven was coincidentally vacant. Her deep navy eyes took in all of her company, the shadow over them from the cause of her hood amusingly ironic.

So that's what this was about. Lovely.

"She's _my _child," Sithis snapped, his honeyed, deep, and demonic voice furious. He looked oddly similar to his avatar on the Dark Brotherhood doors, a skeleton with a hooded cloak draped over his body made of blood and darkness. He was a bit unnerving. "She's going to be nurtured in The Void, you blasphemous daedra!"

"No one owns her, you bumbling imbeciles," Ysgramor hissed. "This is why Sovngarde is to be her home. So she can be free to live eternally as she wishes."

Potema snorted in disgust. "Oh, right. Slashing, gnashing, and drinking for the rest of your days, that sounds completely _wonderful._" Sarcasm licked at her tone like a dog at its vomit. "What more can there be to freedom than wreaking havoc on Nirn in any way one chooses?"

"Ha!" Hircine cackled. He was sin his spectral white stag form "Nothing is more satisfying than The Hunt. Milady."

"Perhaps something _mad_," Sheogorath suggested boredly, using his robes' sleeves to wrap around his half-eaten apple, as if this was completely alright. "I mean, when you look at all of these bubblehead of suggestions, none of there are mad in the least! All are disappointedly sane. Where's the fun in that?"

"Why are you here, Sheogorath?" Hircine demanded.

"To represent my client, Nocturnal," He said uninterested, shrugging his limp shoulders delightedly.

"I don't need representing, fool," Was Nocturnal's irritated counter.

"Oh, yes, you do," Sheogorath argued. "It would be sane if you didn't. You will see I am always needed. The world would be dull without my presence, Miss Shadow-y."

Potema snickered, her teeth loudly rubbing against each other.

"Quiet, vile woman," Ysgramor ordered the Necromancer, who in turn gave him a heated scowl.

"This is getting no where!" Sithis insisted, darkness licking at his body.

"For once, I'll allow him to be right," Nocturnal said edgily. "We should be concluding business; I am getting my Nightingale after death, and that is final. Take it up with someone else who gives a-"

"How about we let the Dovahkiin decide?" Interjected said Dovahkiin, her voice a bit scratchy, as she was getting tired and irritable. "I mean, shouldn't I be the one to decide my place of rest?"

A set of 'no's followed her suggestion in a choir. She blinked. So that was that.

"That's not how it works, sweetheart," Sheogorath attempted to explain. "No one gets to decide where they will end when they die, that's the fun of it! Sure, some of your actions might depict the turn of where it might lead...but you never get to choose, dearie."

Ysgramor moaned. "This is just like last time! Only last time we didn't have to worry of the Dread Lord here."

"Hey!" Snapped said Sithis, glowering with death of eyes. "Don't disrespect me, worm. Or I'll have one of my children cut off your line of kin." He warned.

"Do that and I shall make sure your 'family' never exists again," Ysgramor sneered.

"Enough!" Shegorath shouted, and all eyes turned on him. He was shaking in anger, which was never good. Good things never came of a mad, insane god. "I grow tired of this!"

"You and me both," Dovahkiin muttered, massaging her eyes. She had better things to do than listen to these fools argue over her, despite how funny it could be if she was quenched on patience.

"Just leave, Sheogorath," Hircine suggested, a pompous grin enticing his stag-lips. "No one wants you here."

Sheogorath gaped, hurt filling his irises. "How dare you offend me?" With a sniffle, and tears threatening to slip from his eyes, he began too much sadly on a strawberry tart, disheartened. "Haskill! A tissue!"

His Breton appeared, handed his master a handkerchief with engraved stitching, and then with a snap of fingers, was gone once more.

He began to dab his eyes with the cloth, and then obnoxiously blew his nose.

"Baby," Potema snickered, acting rather immature for the prideful woman.

That was the last straw.

"All of you, shut up!" Finally, completely drained of toleration for this pointless lollygagging, Dovahkiin stood and placed her hands on the table, eyeballing them all angrily. "I WILL CHOOSE MY OWN FATE, UNDERSTAND? I HAVE FREAKING DESTROYED THE WORLD EATER, GOTTEN RID OF AN EYE THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN ANOTHER EASY TOOL TO HURT TAMRIEL. I AM A HARBINGER, A GUILDMASTER, A LISTENER, I HAVE WON A BLOODY WAR, SO BY AKATOSH, AND I WILL SURE AS OBLIVION CHOOSE WHO I WILL RESIDE WITH WHEN I DIE!" She shouted, took a deep breath, shaking.

So with that, the usually lovely woman made her leave through the exit to her right.

They all sat in stunned silence for a few minutes, before it was broken by none other than the mad god.

He turned to Nocturnal, and gave her a serious look. "Your bill is 1,000,001 shells. It is required to be paid by the end of Evening Star, any longer and I shall add interest. Good day, my fellow mates!" He said as he stood. A rainbow top hat appeared on his head. He bowed, removed the hat, and twirled it in his hand as a farewell, and the disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Nocturnal slammed her forehead against the table.

THE END. :D


End file.
